


No Such Arrangement

by D20Owlbear, theta_bee



Series: Zine Fics [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale doesn't get undressed at all, Aziraphale gets a bit rough with Crowley, Crowley very obviously enjoys is, Explicit rated fic, F/M, Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Male-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Mature rated art, Mirror Sex, Rated E for Enjoyable touching, Under-negotiated Kink, Vaginal Fingering, art in first chapter, breasts visible but no genitalia is shown, but they're clearly both very ok with how it's going, partial nudity in art, penetration with fingers only, the art is fucking beautiful - as a note from the author, they don't really talk about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27588767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theta_bee/pseuds/theta_bee
Summary: Never mind who's doing the tempting here, Aziraphale is going to teach his adversary a lesson that she won't forget. Crowley is posing as Morgein in Camelot and Sir Azira Phail is rather suspicious of her and how she charms the knights of the court.A fun collab between theta and the spectacular D20Owlbear for the Bottoms Up zine!
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Zine Fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904656
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43
Collections: TheBottomsUpZineArtandWritingCollection





	1. Bottoms Up: The Medieval One

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Implied sexual activity, sexual contact, and nude female-presenting Crowley. Aziraphale is fully clothed; the two are visible in a mirror.
> 
> I'm so excited for this!! Based on a truly wonderful and uh, touching story, by an amazing writer with the best ideas, and ever so fun to draw from start to finish.

[ ](https://ibb.co/Rvch112)

From D20Owlbear's fic: “You, you humiliated me!” Aziraphale accused, bursting into Crowley’s rooms. She tutted, tapping the loom before her as if he were _interrupting_. Aziraphale seethed. “Demon,” Crowley lilted, pointing at herself. “You know, fomenting.

[Full Pic Link](https://ibb.co/Rvch112)


	2. No Such Arrangment: Fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fic to go along with Thetabee's amazing, beautiful, phenomenal art!! Thank you so much for your collab in the Bottoms Up zine Crowley edition!

“You, you humiliated me!” Aziraphale accused, bursting into Crowley’s rooms. She tutted, tapping the loom before her as if he were _interrupting_. Aziraphale seethed. 

“Demon,” Crowley lilted, pointing at herself. “You know, fomenting. _Not_ in any sort of truce or Arrangement, angel,” she hissed, a curse rather than an endearment. Aziraphale stopped short realizing just how close he’d been to smiting her outright in anger. He forcibly calmed himself. Though it didn’t do much against the storm raging inside him, he at least wouldn’t react so rashly.

“This is a bit more than making your point, Crowley.” Aziraphale retaliated.

“Call me Morgein here, you know that, Sir Phail. Funny you’d use a name like that.” Crowley waved her hand at him dismissively and Aziraphale fumed again. Oh, she had the _worst_ ability to get under his skin!

“Very well, Morgein,” Aziraphale replied evenly as he took another step closer, bringing him within an arm’s length of the demon. He _ought_ to smite her, he knew. King Arthur was too affectionate with her, and she had too easily _slithered_ into everyone's good graces. Aziraphale didn’t think she had… _seduced_ the king or his knights, but their desires were as clear as day. They watched her walk, and her dark hair tumbling temptingly from her veil, like hungry beasts.

“And just _what_ are you accusing me of, Sir Phail?” Crowley asked with an air of contrived innocence, “I’ve been here weaving a reward for the champion of the joust. Not _bespelling_ people, as I’ve been accused before. By you.”

“You _are_ masquerading as a sorceress.” Aziraphale’s hand curled into a fist at his side and released again. “Mucking with my miracles, _Morgein_. You know that will bring Gabriel’s attention to where I am! Do you want him to come and… send you away?” He grimaced meaningfully at the thought of Gabriel finding Crowley here, in Arthur’s court, and realizing Aziraphale hadn’t yet smote her.

“This cannot continue,” Aziraphale continued. “Leave Arthur’s court. I cannot allow you to corrupt him.” 

Crowley rolled her eyes and stood, gazing at him over the rim of her tinted glasses. She gasped when Aziraphale took hold of her shoulders, overcome with frustration. He backed her up against her dressing table and mirror; a large, vain thing she’d likely conjured herself based on the perfection of the glass. 

“Angel,” Crowley whispered, rough with desire, the yellow of her eyes blown wide. A heavy silence stretched between them. 

Aziraphale whirled Crowley around, positioning her so one of her legs was propped up on the table, her skirts rucked up around her thighs. With a vicious rip, he tore the velvet of her dress, leaving her legs suddenly bare and cold. The slickness already gathering between them made her shiver.

“Angel!” she cried, hands grasping at his shoulders to keep from falling, smothering a moan when he crowded against her. He took her wrists into his hands and transferred them both into one, unbreakable as iron manacles, then his free hand slipped down her stomach to settle just above her apex.

“Is _this_ what you wanted, demon,” Aziraphale asked roughly, nosing the hair falling from her veil. "Something to sate your wickedness? A thwarting?" Crowley's hips bucked up, chasing any satisfaction from Aziraphale’s hand. She whined when he pressed down on her hips until they were pinned against his. 

"Yesss," she hissed loudly, struggling against his grip, attempting to make him _move_. 

"Be good, Crowley, and I won't smite you." Aziraphale took a pleading tone and dipped his hand lower, rubbing tight circles over her clit. 

"Demon," Crowley reminded, hissing her displeasure when Aziraphale pulled away again. 

Aziraphale met her gaze in the mirror, something hardening in his eyes as his jaw set. 

At that challenge, he broke Crowley to pieces with his fingers on her sex and teeth on her neck. Pulling away when her breathing grew ragged as she neared climax. Over and over again, until she babbled deliriously, begging for his mercy and his cock. 

"Ask me again," Aziraphale growled into her ear and she trembled. 

"Please," Crowley moaned, slack against Aziraphale’s body, held up only by his hands. "Please angel, have mercy, have pity on me. _Please_ , Aziraphale, fuck me!" 

Aziraphale slid two fingers into her, reveling in the gasp turned into full body moan, fucking her slow and rough. Crowley whimpered and moaned again when he rocked against her backside, in time with the thrusts of his fingers, the movement of his hips becoming the movement of hers. 

"More," Crowley cried, desperate for relief, "'S not enough, need you, _please_!" 

Aziraphale bit down on her neck where it met her shoulder, lapping her sweat-soaked skin before murmuring a sharp, "No, temptress." 

Crowley’s breath hitched, sobbing. Aziraphale slid his hand up her body, briefly caressing her breasts through untorn fabric, leaving smears of fluid. He removed the glasses hiding her eyes, letting them clatter to the table with a commanding, "Watch." 

"Yes, angel," she shuddered. Aziraphale returned his fingers between her thighs and pressed his cock between them impossibly slowly; both watching him disappear into her, the way her legs trembled when his thumb moved to her clit. They watched as her hips moved obscenely in that perfect mirror, trapped between his hands and his cock pressing into and against her, setting the pace. 

It was decadent and excessive and everything she could have asked for. It was _torture_. 

Tears ran down her face as Crowley begged for relief, and Aziraphale denied her again. Twice more he denied her, until she was insensate and her pleas and prayers unintelligible. 

Aziraphale’s hips jerked and he muffled his moan against Crowley's neck, biting down and speeding up his fingers. Between the curl _just so_ on every thrust and wet friction over her clit, Crowley was finally allowed to cum with " _angel!_ " on her lips. 

With a snap, Aziraphale repaired their clothing of stains and rips. He helped Crowley sit before her vanity and left without another word, her wiles thoroughly thwarted. 


End file.
